


Ocean

by monyaka



Series: Femslash February 2020 [9]
Category: Hello Charlotte (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February 2020, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Trans Character, charles uses she/her in this we stan a queen, in general charles has Some Problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22634470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monyaka/pseuds/monyaka
Summary: Day 9 of 29 : OceanI'll meet you at the water's edge.
Relationships: Charles Eyler/Q84
Series: Femslash February 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619584
Kudos: 7





	Ocean

**Author's Note:**

> charles and q84 go to a private beach that charles has made just for q because we love charles and q's relationship. i know the tags and summary are scary but i promise this is cute

Charles is hesitant to go near the water. She’s been sitting on the shoreline for the last three hours, shrouded by a black umbrella and sweating out the heat in her turtleneck and trousers. 

Q84 loves the beach, because she loves anything that allows her to be totally alone. Charles has created the space, after all, to be perfect. She watches as Charlotte plays in the water that houses no ecosystems and makes sandcastles with white sand that never sticks to her skin. There is nothing uncomfortable about this experience. Charlotte is happy.

So surely, this must mean Charles is happy as well. And yet, as she ruminates, Q bears down upon her, dressed all in white, and skimpy, too. Showing off, Charles decides, and she sets a bookmark in the novel she’s brought with her. 

“What is it, Miss Wiltshire?”

“Are you the same size as me?” What seems to at first be a genuine question is soon defiled with snickering. “Was I meant to be a self-insert, Charles? Wow, now I get why you have your panties all in a twist about my  _ story. _ You goddamn masochist.”

“Language,” she sighs, but Q84 isn’t entirely wrong. “And I suppose I am. But I don’t believe we have the same body type.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “Open my suitcase.” And of course, Charles obeys. What is she here to do other than serve her darling Charlotte? There are a few other outfits in it, including spare swimsuits. All white, of course. 

“What would you like, dear?”

Q84 doesn’t seem to care about the pet name, but Charles is certain she does. “Uhh... the one with the ruffles. Now put it on.”

She starts to protest.

“God, Charles, I don’t care about your self-harm scars or whatever you’re hiding under there. Just put it on. Your sweat is sooo gross.” Charles looks at her questioningly, and she turns away. “It’s just us on the beach, and it’s not like I want to see that.”

Eventually, she relents, and she has Q hold up a towel and look away while she slips into the swimsuit. The more she thinks about it, the more it strikes her that this outfit is most definitely designed for her and not her companion. The bottom piece is loose and comfortable enough that she knows it’s been bought consciously for her. The ruffles make her look curvier than she is, and there’s even an oversized cardigan for her to wear to hide her arms, if she wishes.

It’s strangely thoughtful, given Charles’ current company.

When she tells Q84 to lower the towel, she catches her staring, looking her up and down before she flounces off. It’s not that Charles expects compliments, anyhow. Her mood is considerably brighter as she practically skips towards—

— _ the ocean. _

Her breath sticks in her throat. She remembers, once more, the imposing sunset, the garbled sound of flesh and organs vibrating against vocal chords. Don’t do it. You pathetic creature. After everything, you’re just going to give up?

Gloved hands clutch at the fabric of the swimsuit. She can’t breathe.

Through distant vision, she sees Charlotte double back and place both hands on her own. She isn’t looking at the scars. She isn’t looking at the ribs peeking through her deathly-pale skin. She isn’t looking at anything at all. Her voice is quiet and stiff against raven hair; Q84 still hasn’t learned how to comfort others, and the brusqueness is familiar and comforting. “There, there, loser C,” she’s sighing. “Just have your panic attack and come play in the water.”

And she does. Slowly, she comes back to herself. And then she forms her lips in the shape of a kiss. Charlotte, as usual, doesn’t get tainted with scarlet colours. But she  _ almost _ does. “Yeah, yeah. Are you okay now?”

“Not until I get a—”

“— _ Mwaaaah. _ You disgusting pervert.”

They don’t kiss like real girlfriends. It’s almost like how Charles imagines Paris, where people kiss the air beside each cheek. But this small intimacy doesn’t make either of them feel as if they need to peel off their skin, and so Charles feels this is a victory. She dodges the kick Q aims at her stomach and giggles. “Alright— _ alright! _ Miss  _ Wiltshire, _ I’m going to the ocean, don’t—” An elated laugh bubbles from her— “don’t  _ kick _ me!  _ Charlotte! _ ”

By the time they return to the House, they’re both laughing, and Charles can’t help but admire the sound. Charlotte, she thinks, really is the cutest girl in the whole world.


End file.
